Dagger of deception, p.1
Dagger of Deception, page 1
part #1 of Rahendo and Ryhunzo Mysteries Series
A Rahendo and Ryhunzo Mystery
1
Dagger of Deception
Andrew Ashling
Table of Contents
Cover
Title Page
Introduction to the Series
Dramatis Personae
Chapter 1: Friend in Need
Chapter 2: Iselda
Chapter 3: The Dagger
Chapter 4: The Peasant Boy
Chapter 5: The Stray Boys
Chapter 6: Gildo
Chapter 7: The Shield and Arrow
Chapter 8: The Merchant
Chapter 9: The Lonely Barn
Chapter 10: Cormack
Chapter 11: The Flight
From the Author
Other Books by Andrew Ashling
Copyright Page
Introduction to the Series
When I first started writing The Invisible Chains, I had a fairly linear story in mind. I didn’t foresee how it would swell up and bulge out left and right, up and down, until it contained more than a dozen storylines and literally hundreds of characters.
The Dark Tales of Randamor the Recluse, of which the Chains-trilogy is the first part, is foremost the personal story of a young prince, Anaxantis, who is thrown from a safe, protected nest into the turbulent world of an outer province on the brink of being invaded by wild barbarians. In a broader sense it is also a history—or pseudo-history, if you will—of the world Anaxantis lives in.
While this is a medieval-ish world, these are not our Middle Ages. Rather, we’re in the distant future. A cataclysm, of which the exact nature is long forgotten, wiped out all civilization and most humans. A long period of slow reconstruction by the remnants of humanity followed, called the Darkening. At the time of these stories the Darkening has been declared over for more than fourteen-hundred years and humanity has crawled back to a medieval civilization.
The first three books, The Invisible Chains, relate how Anaxantis, though short of money and soldiers, handles a dangerous invasion by vicious barbarians.
This story takes place parallel to the beginning of the first book of the sequel quadrilogy, The Invisible Hands, the fourth book in the series. Some spoilers, if you haven’t read the first three books, are inevitable, but I hope I kept them to a minimum. I’m almost sure that they won’t detract from enjoying the first books, should you ever decide you want to read them.
The Cast
These are the most important characters of Dagger of Deception.
Anaxantis
of the Royal House of Tanahkos, prince of Ximerion, lord governor of the Northern Marches, warlord of Amiratha, Mirkadesh and Landemere… you get the idea.
Also known as Anaxantis Muktharchtankhar, which roughly translates to Anaxantis the Mukthar Slayer, a title his soldiers bestowed upon him after the Battle of the Zinchara, a few months before the events in this book.
He is the young, handsome, and undisputed ruler of his corner of the world. That doesn’t mean he isn’t set upon by many problems, both in his personal life as well as in his official capacity.
Most of the time he is the Main Character, but in this story he only plays a supporting part.
How exactly, from unpromising beginnings, he became Anaxantis the Mukthar Slayer is related in The Invisible Chains trilogy, the first three books of the Dark Tales of Randamor the Recluse.
He has an older brother, Ehandar. They’ve had a bit of a disturbed and disturbing relationship, but by this time most of the rough waters are behind them.
Their father, His Glorious Majesty, Tenaxos I, high king of Ximerion, has endowed both brothers with the same title of lord governor of the Northern Marches and equal authority. In actual practice Ehandar leaves all of the business of ruling to his younger brother.
Neither Ehandar, nor His Glorious Majesty, figure in this book.
Rahendo of Eldorn
A page of the aforementioned Prince Anaxantis. He and his lover, Ryhunzo, have recently been promoted to head pages. His real name is Radyamirodyahendo, but, for obvious reasons, nobody calls him that, except Anaxantis who hates abbreviations. Rahendo’s sisters—he has five of them, all older—also have been known to call him by his full name, but only when they are cross with him. When they’re not, they usually call him Little Ferret. Ryhunzo, calls him by the most outrageous pet names which would surely meet with disapproval from the medieval equivalents of both Ernest Hemingway and Stephen King. Not that Ryhunzo would care in the least.
Rahendo has a morose disposition when on his own or when the company around him doesn’t contain Ryhunzo. His mere gaze makes most people uncomfortable. He has somewhat a reputation of a harbinger of doom, which he carefully cultivates.
Ryhunzo of Uberon
Another page. Lover of the aforementioned Rahendo. His real name is Ry, but he doesn’t like it. It’s a long story. Actually, it isn’t but Ryhunzo doesn’t like telling it all the same.
Most of the time Ryhunzo has a sunny disposition. He adores his lover.
Under his happy-go-lucky and irreverent exterior there is a more serious kernel which he hides as much as possible.
Arranulf of Landemere
Yet another page. Actually, he should be properly addressed as His Grace, Duke Arranulf XIV of Landemere. Except that Anaxantis doesn’t want pages to use their titles.
How the young duke came to be a page at the court of Prince Anaxantis, and moreover the personal page of Hemarchidas, a close friend of the prince-warlord, is related in Bonds of Hate, the first book of The Invisible Chains trilogy.
Obyann of Ramaldah
You guessed it. Another page. Obyann is a down-to-earth young noble with a grumpy nature. Pretends to hate little perverts and all Landemeres, the neighbors of his ancestral demesne. Obsessed with producing heirs. Legal heirs. This is a bit of a weak spot in his otherwise solid moral armor.
Rahendo calls him Obie. Ryhunzo calls him Obe. Arranulf calls him Ramaldah, because Obyann calls Arranulf Landemere. Sorry, you’ll just have to keep up.
Under all the grumpiness, Obyann is a pushover.
He is one of three masters of pages—a rank above head page—together with Arranulf of Landemere and Eynurm of Tarnwood.
Eynurm of Tarnwood
Yet another page, and friend of the aforementioned Obyann and Arranulf.
Eynurm is one of the good guys. He stands by his friends, even when things get rough. Under normal circumstances he’s an unmovable rock.
He had a bit of an unlucky affair with a commoner girl from Lorseth Market, by name of Iselda. When he told his father he wanted to marry her, his sire promptly disinherited him. Looking for comfort, he informed his beloved of his father’s decision. She dumped him on the spot. Although well-liked by his friends, Eynurm’s world is rather dark for the moment.
It is about to get a lot darker.
Iselda
A girl with ambition. A girl with a plan. Several plans in fact. Comely, fairly well off as the daughter of a flourishing saddler in high demand, she wants to climb the social ladder.
That turns out to be not a good idea.
Sterff of Rivrant, Morneck of Miradano, Hildas of Wynnford
Pages. More pages. Pages all the way down. By now you must wonder why there are so many pages running around in this story. It’s Prince Anaxantis’s fault. He keeps accepting the spawn of even the most miserable House in the kingdom of Ximerion, even those of almost indiscernible nobility.
Why, you ask? His Highness has his reasons and he is not known for taking the likes of us in his confidence. Actually, he trusts almost nobody. On second thought, make that nobody at all.
Tomar Parmingh
Brilliant administrator with a checkered past. He was banished from the capital, Ormidon, where he was an up-and-coming force in the Royal Administration. A keen mind and a big mouth caused him to be stationed—very much against his will—at Lorseth Castle to help the young lord governors, the princes Anaxantis and Ehandar, run the Northern Marches.
He does this admirably and from a small fish in a big pond, he became a big fish in a smaller one. Anaxantis relies on him for all practical things, in particular the acquisition of money.
He looks down on nobles as dilettante administrators at best and irresponsible, spendthrift good-for-nothings at worst. He complains particularly about Anaxantis and often engages in acerbic discussions with him concerning the sound and responsible governance of the Highlands, but when all is said and done, he can’t refuse the prince anything. Another sheep in a wolf’s skin. As far as Anaxantis is concerned, anyway. All the rest, beware.
Once in a while you’ll hear about him in this story, but he has no active role in it.
Olno, Agneth, Lanio and other assorted Stray Boys
Orphans who live on the edge of Lorseth and society in general. The lowest of the low. Even the poorest peasant boys look down on them.
The villagers of Lorseth Market call them stray boys. So, they call themselves Stray Boys.
They try to survive by hook or by crook under dire circumstances. This means they can’t be choosy as to the methods they employ to stay alive.
Olno is their leader. Agneth, though a year, maybe even two years, older and much stronger, is his lieutenant.
Olno has a little brother, Lanio. Rather quiet and unobtrusive, he can be loquacious when needed—or when he chooses to. Loves spicy chicken wings, one of the specialties served at the Cranky Goat, Lorseth’s most popular waterhole.
Some of the Stray Boys are girls.<
Gildo
The son of modest merchants who think—rightly so—they can commercially exploit Prince Anaxantis’s pet project, Lorseth Harbor, by providing loading, unloading, and other docking services to merchants from other towns and cities who can’t afford their own permanent representative far away from home.
His motto seems to be ‘Keep It Real’ and he brooks no nonsense. He doesn’t believe in romance.
Hrodeck of Braedon
A young noble from the Highlands. His ancestral demesne isn’t far from Lorseth. He is neither a page of Prince Anaxantis—no, really, he isn’t—nor a squire of his brother, Prince Ehandar, a.k.a. the other lord governor.
Hrodeck is a young man with needs. Needs he fulfills in Lorseth, far away from the prying eyes of his parents, the count and countess of Braedon. Since he doesn’t have much time to seek relief and he isn’t looking for love either, he does what expediency dictates: he pays for the services he requires.
Another realist.
Cairman
The landlord of the Shield and Arrow, a place where nobody knows your name or cares who you are. Least of all Cairman, provided you pay him. Preferably in advance.
His run-down place has the highest prices in Lorseth. Yet his inn is popular.
People say he’s blind and deaf, because he has elevated discretion into an art form. He doesn’t want to know who you are. In fact, he prefers it if you don’t tell him any particulars about yourself and give him a false name. The moment you have paid him he forgets even your alias.
Varsia the Seamstress
Varsia is the seamstress of Lorseth Castle. As such she mends tunics, breeches, capes, bed linen, etc. for the garrison, pages, squires, and all other occupants of the castle and its dependencies. As you can guess, she’s a busy woman. She’s also a shrewd old bird who hopes to retire with a nice nest egg. Like all smart people she has multiple income streams, about which she is more than tight-lipped. And maybe there’s a lot more she’s secretive about. But that’s another story.
Assorted pages (yes, them again), merchants, and peasant boys.
They’re mostly talked about and don’t play much of an active role.
Dagger of Deception
Chapter 1
Friend in Need
“Boys, boys, be careful and don’t step on the beds with herbs. Wait there and let me finish planting these little seedlings. It may surprise you, but at my age this is hard work and my knees are protesting the mistreatment I make them suffer.”
…
“Why, thank you, Floryon. You too, Verial. Whatever would I do without you boys bringing me apples, and carrots and the occasional hare. I’m too old to tend to my garden much, except this patch here with herbs. My dear mother always said that every age has its charms and compensations. While youth is fleeing, exuberant pleasures of the flesh are replaced with both contentment and ecstasy of the mind. She said that over time I would learn to appreciate the slowing down of the days. Ah, my dear mother. She could talk such nonsense. I’ve been twenty years old and I’ve been seventy years old, and, believe me boys, twenty is better. Much better.”
…
“I see in your eyes that you haven’t come to visit Medwyna the Midwife to hear her moan about her younger days, long gone by. You know I brought both of you boys into this world, and the world was better for it. But did you know that I also brought your mothers into this world? And your mothers’ mothers? The same with your fathers and your fathers’ fathers. That’s how old I am… Still, that’s not why you came. So, why did you?”
…
“Ah, Randamor send you. Got tired of you, did he? I’m not surprised. My dear friend is even older than I am, and all those terrible memories must weigh down on him.”
…
“I’m sure if you leave him be for a week or so, he will be glad to see you again. And he has many more stories to tell. What that man must have heard… and seen.”
…
“Yes, I too know a lot of stories that were told about the warlord and his friends. Not the big ones, though. Not the ones about battles and intrigues, and all those terrible and important events. If you want to hear those, you’ll have to wait until my grouchy old friend’s mood turns and he is prepared to tolerate you again. But, I can tell you some of the minor incidents that happened.”
…
“Now that I think about it, some of them were quite horrible in their own right. Just not on the same scale. Not the clashes of armies. More like little tragedies happening between people.”
…
“Let me see… There was this girl from Lorseth—Lorseth Market, not Lorseth Castle—who was murdered. Oh, at first it seemed clear who had done the vile deed, and if not for two obstinate pages the wrong man could have been convicted of the atrocious killing.”
…
“Yes, it was them. How very clever of you, Verial. In fact, their reputation for solving mysteries stems from then.”
…
“It was several months after the Battle of the Zinchara, but before the prince-warlord send them as secret messengers to his mother, Queen Emelasuntha.”
…
“Why not? It is a beautiful afternoon. Help me get some herbal tea and spring water. We’ll sit under that tree, there…”
Obyann of Ramaldah let out a deep sigh. He straightened his tunic and raked his fingers through his slightly greasy hair. Scraping his throat, he gathered all his resolve and knocked on the door.
He strained his ears but no sound came from the closed room.
“The little perverts must still be asleep,” he muttered to himself. Or—worse—they are otherwise engaged, he thought, shivering.
Even so, he had to draw their attention somehow. Prince Anaxantis had asked for them.
“Rahendo, Ryhunzo,” he called out. “Are you awake? Are you decent? Open the door. If you’re decent. Only if you’re decent.”
Since there came no immediate reaction he was about to try the doorknob, but before he could do so someone opened the door from the inside.
“Ah, it’s you, Obe, my man,” a cheerful curly-haired young man said. Cheerful, curly-haired, and stark naked.
“I asked, Ryhunzo. I did ask if you were decent,” Obyann complained.
Ryhunzo scratched his bush, which made his dick go up and down in a nodding gesture. Obyann cringed. Ryhunzo yawned.
“I’ll have you know my Golden Dawn After a Long Dreary Night and I consider ourselves to be some of the most decent people you will find in a region of thirty miles around Lorseth, Obe. Frankly, methinks I ought to be insulted.” He smiled radiantly. “But since it’s you, I’m not.”
“Who is there, Pookie?” a voice called from inside.
Rahendo emerged from behind the drapery that separated the sleeping quarters from the rest of the room. He too was as naked as the day he was born.
“Oh, Obie, it’s you,” he crowed. “Come in, come in.”
Obyann sighed again.
“One day you’ll really have to explain to me what horrible crimes clothes have committed that you hate wearing them,” he muttered.
“We like clothes perfectly fine.” Ryhunzo beamed.
“Especially our elegant maroon mantles,” Rahendo added.
“I don’t know about elegant. What I do know is that they were damn expensive,” Obyann grumbled. And of course, it made the other head pages, Echron and Robrant, jealous. So we had to buy them maroon cloaks as well.
“It’s just that clothes get in the way, you know, when my Pookie and I want to prove our undying love—”
“I don’t want to hear it and I certainly don’t want those images haunting me for the rest of the day. Dress yourselves. Anaxantis wants you. Both of you. Yes, I know, I thought he had lost his mind, but then he explained. It’s weird but it makes sense when he explains it.”
Two naked boys looked expectantly at Obyann.
“Well, Obe, my man, care to tell us?” A mountain of curls moved excitedly on Ryhunzo’s head. He blew at a strand of hair that had fallen over his left eye.
“Put some clothes on, you little deviants, and I’ll explain while you’re dressing.”
